


Unity Day

by aterribleinfluence



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Young Kabby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aterribleinfluence/pseuds/aterribleinfluence
Summary: “You’re drunk,” says Kane. His voice is a little lower than usual, and there’s a rasp to it that makes a shiver go up Abby’s spine.“No I’m not,” she says, and she means it. She looks up into his eyes, meeting his gaze without flinching, the two of them holding each other in a strange parody of a dance already. “I’m just sick of always doing what I’m supposed to do.”From The 100 Kink meme. Prompt: 'Young Kabby Unity Day Dance Sex.'





	Unity Day

 

She sees him from across the room, trying to blend into the wall, by the looks of it, as if _that_ could ever be possible for Marcus goddamn Kane. Even through this crush of bodies; the heat and movement and the pulsing light, the thrum of excited chatter and the thumping bass beat of the music, it’s impossible for anyone in the room not to notice him.

He’s tall and lean, with thick, dark hair. Dark eyes. Hawkish features. The kind of intense, brooding presence that makes every girl in the vicinity weak at the knees. He’s sex on legs and the worst part is that he doesn’t seem to _know_ it, not in the way some boys do, and it just makes him all the more intoxicating. He could have any girl he wanted, but he has never seemed interested...never seemed interested in _anything_ , really. He’s an outsider by choice, perhaps by nature too.

He looks bored. Usually that would have made Abby feel irritated with him – why even come to a party if you’re not going to enjoy it? – but right now she feels an odd kinship with Marcus Kane. She’s always been the centre of attention too, her whole life, albeit in a very different way. Unlike him she thrives off it, but not tonight. Tonight she feels the pressure of too many eyes on her, hears imagined whispers as she threads through the crowd, people wondering why half of the Ark’s sweetest young couple has shown up to the Unity Day dance alone.

Well. Why not give them something to talk about, if they’ve got nothing better to do than speculate about her fucking personal life?

She walks up to Kane – Abby Walters, daring to tread where other girls fear to go. And to her amusement he actually looks taken aback as she stands in front of him, uncertain of what’s happening. Presumably he must have intended to just lurk in the corner all night trying not to be noticed, and she’s thrown his plan into disarray by bringing her little Abby Walters spotlight with her.

“Care to dance, stranger?” she says, with a smirk.

“I’m not wearing a mask,” Kane replies bluntly. “And no-one here is a stranger, Abby.”

It’s true enough – the little silver mask Abby wears is hardly enough to conceal her identity, especially not to people who have known her all their lives. She rolls her eyes at Kane, unsure whether he can see her do it through the large holes cut in the mask.

“Aren’t _you_ fun at parties?” she says dryly. “That’s not how this is supposed to go, Kane. You’re supposed to pretend not to know the identity of the beautiful stranger who asks you for a dance, and sweep her off her feet anyway, never to see her again. Don’t you know _anything?_ ”

“I don’t dance,” says Kane, sounding unamused.

“Then why are you here?”

He shrugs. She wonders if he practises it in the mirror; that careless gesture, that hard, almost contemptuous expression. He crosses his arms and the movement pulls his black shirt a little tighter across his chest. It’s about a size too small for him, but it looks good. Really good. The strobing lights play across the harsh lines of his face, throwing his features into alternating light and shadow. His eyes bore into her intently.

“Why are you here?” he counters. “Without Jake.”

“Fuck Jake,” Abby says, and to her surprise, one corner of Kane’s mouth lifts slightly, the closest she had seen to a smile from him in years. She’s not sure if it’s at the profanity or the sentiment, but she’s amused him. She feels a strange thrill at the thought of getting a reaction. “I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want without him,” she says defiantly. “He’s not my keeper.”

“No he isn’t.” There’s a slightly curious look in Kane’s eyes now, but his voice doesn’t hold any trace of mockery.

“Dance with me,” Abby repeats, and the corner of Kane’s mouth lifts again, just for a brief moment.

“No.”

Abby tosses her hair, exasperated rather than insulted. She can feel the buzz of moonshine warming her from the inside, making her reckless, loosening her tongue. “Why not?” she demands.

“Why should I? To make Jake Griffin jealous? I think I have better things to do.”

Abby crosses her arms, glaring up at him. She notices his eyes flicker down from her face for a fraction of a second – the movement must have pushed her cleavage up into a more prominent position, and the dress she’s wearing isn’t exactly modest in that regard. Abby came to cleavage late, being almost flat-chested until the age of about sixteen, and she’s spent the last couple of years making up for it. She feels that thrill again, the triumph of getting a reaction out of Kane that’s almost as much of a buzz as the moonshine.

“Not everything I do,” she says, slowly carefully drawing out every word, “is about Jake _fucking_ Griffin.” She relishes the profanity on her tongue again, liking the bitter feel of it. “Maybe I just want to dance with you because I want to.”

“You can’t stand me,” says Kane. “You think I’m pretentious. Up my own ass. I heard you say so.”

Under any other circumstances this revelation would have been embarrassing, but Kane’s obvious lack of offence makes Abby laugh. “You _are_ up your own ass,” she says.

“And you’re a spoiled, privileged princess who’s never had to work hard in her life because everything always came easy to you,” says Kane, without any particular venom. “Because everyone loves you without you even having to try.”

Abby laughs again. “Yes I am,” she says. She steps forward before he has time to react, and drapes her arms loosely around Kane’s shoulders, looking up into his startled expression with a smirk. “Dance with me,” she repeats.

For once he seems lost for words. She’s finally cracked his composure a little, and she sees him swallow hard as his dark eyes search hers for meaning. She’s standing so close she can feel her breasts brushing against his chest, feel the heat from his body. Where her bare arms are pressed against the skin of his neck his pulse is pounding – or perhaps it’s her own, or perhaps it’s the heavy beat of the music, throbbing through her blood, making her feel suddenly vibrantly alive, breathless and tingling with anticipation, as though she might burst out of her own skin.

Kane puts his hands on her waist; she thinks to push her away, but leaves them there. The warmth of them feels like its burning through the thin fabric of her dress, searing into her skin. They’re broad and firm, spanning from her hips almost to the swell of her breasts, gripping her steadily, and Abby feels a jolt of something more than just adrenaline, something deep and delicious and more primal.

“You’re drunk,” says Kane. His voice is a little lower than usual, and there’s a rasp to it that makes a shiver go up Abby’s spine.

“No I’m not,” she says, and she means it. She looks up into his eyes, meeting his gaze without flinching, the two of them holding each other in a strange parody of a dance already. “I’m just sick of always doing what I’m supposed to do.” She risks stepping a fraction closer, pressing lightly against him, unsure even as she does it whether she’s pushing too far. “Aren’t you?” she says softly.

Kane doesn’t reply. His eyes are so dark they’re almost frightening, and she can feel his breath coming faster, a little ragged. His hands tighten on her waist. She loves this, she realises, having this effect on him, something she had never thought could be possible. He might never have been impressed by her, not the way everyone else is, but she’s gotten under his skin just the same. His eyes flicker to her lips. She moistens them with her tongue, instinctively.

“Abby...” he says, and the sound of her name in that low, hoarse timbre _does_ things to her. “I don’t think this is a good—”

She pushes up onto her toes and kisses him, because she doesn’t want to hear the rest of that sentence. He stiffens for a second and she half thinks he’ll play the gentleman, push her away, but _oh_ he doesn’t disappoint, Marcus Kane, because instead he kisses her the hell back.

She’s never been kissed like this in her whole life. It feels _nothing_ like it does with Jake, and the thought both frightens and excites her, but there’s not a thought of stopping because oh my god it’s so _good_ she might just pass out in his arms. And she’s really in his arms now; his firm, muscular arms, sliding around her back and dragging her flush against his body. She moulds herself to him eagerly and tangles her hands into his thick, soft hair as he kisses and kisses and kisses her, his nose nudging at her mask, scraping it lightly against her face. For someone who didn’t think this was a good idea he sure doesn’t seem to want to stop any time soon. When she parts her lips to deepen the kiss he lets out a low sound of pleasure from the back of his throat, and Abby feels desire light her up like a firework, flushing heat through her limbs, squeezing low in her belly. She squirms a little against him and feels the immediate response of his body, pressed up against hers. She can hardly ignore the fact that he’s growing hard against her and she feels that irrational thrill of triumph again. As if giving a teenage guy an erection is a particularly difficult achievement.

_Mine,_ she thinks. _I’m not yours, I’ll never be yours, but right now you’re mine._

She catches his lower lip between her teeth a little as she pulls away, panting for breath. Kane’s chest is heaving as though he’s run a marathon, and Abby feels her whole body has merged with the music and the heat to become a single pulsing ache, lust so overwhelming it drowns out any other concerns.

Like the roomful of people dancing and drinking and gossiping who can see them right now, making out in a dark corner.

Like the fact that she and Kane have never even really been _friends_ , let alone...anything else.

Like Jake.

She reaches up and pulls off her mask, suddenly sure that whatever happens now, she doesn’t want to hide from it. She lets it drop to the floor beside her, the clatter lost in the noise of the party still crowding around them. She doesn’t even look to see where it falls. She doesn’t take her eyes off Kane. She sees herself suddenly through his eyes – flushed and wild looking, the strobing lights illuminating the lust blown pupils of her eyes, her swollen, eagerly parted lips. In this moment she’s laid bare before him, and she feels both powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

“Dance with me,” she whispers. It’s probably too quiet to really hear over the music, but he must be able to read her lips at this closeness. He knows them pretty well by now, after all. He swallows hard, still uncertain. Abby leans forward to bring her lips close to his ear. Pressed against him, she grinds her hips a little against his.

“Dance with me,” she breathes.

She feels Kane release a shaky breath. There’s no chance he hasn’t understood her. “Not here,” he says quietly, his voice hoarse and strained. “We need somewhere...”

He can’t finish the sentence, overcome either with embarrassment or desire. Abby pulls away from him, glancing up at him from under the eyelashes, and then takes his hand in hers. It feels, strangely, like the most intimate thing they’ve done all night.

“Come with me,” she says.

She leads him through the crowd, threading through the mass of hot, writhing bodies, not caring who sees. There’s no way that someone won’t notice them leaving together, even in this riotous chaos, and in spite of the excitement coursing through her body, Abby still feels a twinge of guilt when she thinks of word getting back to Jake.

She shoves the feeling aside.

_I’m not his either_ , she thinks rebelliously. _I’m not anyone’s._

The air is cooler the moment they step outside the main room where the dance is taking place, though the wall of sound no less oppressive. The corridor outside is cool and too harshly lit in comparison to the dark, thrumming room of revellers they’ve escaped, and the shock of contrast is close to being sobering. Abby feels Kane’s hand tighten around hers reflexively, though he makes no attempt to pull back or to release her.

At least they don’t have far to go. That’s good – Abby doesn’t want to have time to think about what they’re doing. She also wants to be kissing him again as soon as possible, _sooner_ , and it’s just a few steps down the corridor to the door which opens easily at her hand, as she knew it would. It’s barely more than a storage closet, this room, she suspects used most recently for supplies for the party, now empty but for a few dusty shelves at the back. It’s not exactly the most glamorous spot, but it’s the closest to privacy they’re going to get, and she tugs at Kane to follow her inside. For the first time though, she can feel the resistance in his step, and when she turns to look at him his face is uncertain.

“Not having second thoughts, are you Kane?” she says. “It’s Unity Day, you know.” She smirks. “Today is a day for people to come together, after all.”

He blinks at her for a moment and then – she’d never have believed it if she hadn’t seen it – he actually _laughs._

“You’re insane,” he says, a grin lighting up his face in a way that’s strikingly, alarmingly handsome, and a moment later his mouth is on hers again and they’re stumbling into the closet together, yanking the door shut behind them.

The darkness is absolute for a few seconds, until her eyes adjust to the faint light filtering in from the edges of the door and through a high vent in the side wall that adjoins the room they’ve just left. Abby can still hear the music thumping in the next room, still hear the muted roar of chatter and laughter from the crowd, but all of that is secondary, unimportant, background noise to the pounding of her pulse and the heavy, panting breaths the two of them manage to gasp between kisses as they entwine once more.

It turns out Kane had actually been holding back before – whether because of their audience or his own doubts she isn’t sure – but now his mouth is hot and greedy against hers, barely giving her a moment to breathe, and he’s pressing her hard up against the wall, caging her in with his much larger frame. The hand that’s not roaming eagerly over the curves of her body is half tangled in her hair, caressing her face with a kind of violent tenderness as he kisses her deeply, fiercely. Abby has never felt so _wanted_ in her life; she feels hot and quivery, every inch of her skin desperately sensitive and longing to be touched, desire pulsing urgently through her body and pooling between her legs. She’s unbearably turned on, so wet she can feel her thin cotton underwear sticking to her, and when she grinds a little against him, desperate to relieve the sweet ache that’s rapidly becoming the centre and focus of her whole being, she can’t help the soft whimper of pleasure that escapes her. Kane moans appreciatively in response, obviously enjoying the sensation of friction where they both need it the most.

She can feel his erection, hard against her, straining against his clothes. This isn’t about him, he must _know_ this isn’t about him. He’s not an idiot. But either he doesn’t care or he wants her badly enough to ignore her motivations. He releases her mouth for a moment, panting hard, resting his forehead against hers. His ragged breaths mingled with her own seem very loud in this small space. His hand slides up her body to cup her breast, plumping and massaging the soft flesh under his broad palm, and a faint groan falls from his lips.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes fervently, and Abby realises with a jolt she’s never heard him swear before either, and in his deep, rough voice it sounds very... _adult_. It’s a ridiculous thought; they’re both adults, of course, in the eyes of the law now as well as everyone else. But she’s never really _felt_ it before now, not like this, in every atom of her body.

She has been with Jake since they were kids, really, and has noted the change of his body along with hers through the years only in safe increments. Kane though, has only ever been at the periphery of her life, and suddenly now he’s _here_ – shockingly, intimately close – and she’s suddenly very aware that at barely a year older than her he’s a grown man. She’s not making out with some boy at a party on a dare, she’s wrapped in a passionate embrace with a man she barely knows, his hands on her skin, his lips hot and eager on hers, her slender frame dominated by the firm, muscular lines of his body.

She’s never been with anyone but Jake, and suddenly this feels like the first time, it feels very _real_ in a way that the rest of the night has not. Abby’s instinctive response to nerves is always to push through them, to go on the offensive, so she works a hand between them and reaches for the fastening of Kane’s pants. He stops her, reaching down and grabbing her by the wrist suddenly, and she looks up at him, confused.

“Don’t you want...?”

Kane smirks. “Didn’t you say you were sick of doing what you’re supposed to?” he says. He kisses her again, deeply, but there’s something almost tender in it too that surprises her. When he pulls away he lowers his head to kiss her neck, run his tongue along the sharp jut of her collarbone, nip lightly at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Abby has absolutely no idea how he knew that she likes that, because until this very second she hadn’t known herself, but she has to sink her teeth sharply into her lower lip to stop herself from moaning aloud. Kane presses soft, almost reverent kisses onto the heaving swell of her breasts, and she thinks for a moment that he’ll pull down the straps of her dress to bare her to him – she _wants_ him to, wants to feel his mouth on her tingling, sensitive skin – but she’s too embarrassed to ask for it aloud and the moment passes. Instead, her pulse skyrockets as he kneels before her, awkward in the cramped space, and looks up at her with dark, intent eyes, in a strange kind of supplication before her.

“Stop being the good girl, Abby,” he says, his voice quiet and dangerously sexy. “Be selfish for once.”

He slides his hands slowly up her thighs, lifting the hem of her dress as he goes. He doesn’t stop looking up at her as he does it, keeping eye contact; waiting, she thinks, for any signal to stop.

Abby closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall, feeling as though her heart might beat out of her chest. She hears a soft sound that might have been approval from the man kneeling before her and feels him hook his fingers under the fabric of her underwear and pull it down her legs delicately to drop around her ankles.

_Oh god, he’s really...we’re really..._

She inhales sharply at the first touch of his tongue, shock rather than pleasure, and Kane’s hands, braced on her hips to keep her dress pushed out of the way, caress her gently, a soothing gesture, steadying. He starts slow, and Abby tries to relax into the sensations, pleasurably familiar and new all at once, soothing the aching need in the most intimate parts of her body even as it starts to build into something deeper, more intense. She doesn’t know what to do with her own hands; they’re flat against the wall either side of her, bracing her, palms gripping the smooth, cold surface. She must look awkward, she thinks, and then almost laughs aloud at the ridiculous worry – the only other person here to see her is Kane, and his view is hardly—

His tongue nudges lightly at her clit, and her hips jerk wildly as a jolt of pleasure pulses through her. She thinks she feels him smile and that thought brings with it a ripple of pleasure too, because holy shit he’s _enjoying_ this, and suddenly Abby is too, very much so, almost more than she can bear as he picks up the pace, stroking and teasing and sucking at the wet, quivering core of her. The exquisite pressure swells and swells inside her, and she hears as if from outside her own body that she’s moaning on every sharp exhale of breath, the pleasure too great for her body to contain. Her hands leave the wall to tangle in his hair, gripping him possessively, keeping him where she needs him as she squirms and pants and her heart pounds in time to the frantic _thump thump thump_ of the music through the wall, and she’s never in her life felt so debauched, so deliciously _filthy_ as here in the dark with Kane’s face buried in her cunt. She wants to stay like this forever, in the hot, pulsing darkness with him, even as she feels she can’t take another second of it without screaming, even as—

She almost pitches forward as Kane swirls his tongue around her clit and she comes _hard_ , orgasm pulsing through her body in a hot wave of bliss, turning her limbs molten. He braces her with his hands as she quivers violently and – smug asshole that he is – gives her a final slow lick as she comes down again, making her muscles clench in another sharp spasm of pleasure that makes her gasp.

Abby is aware only vaguely of Kane carefully getting to his feet; as her heartbeat steadies to something less than heart-attack speed and her legs stop shaking she realises that he’s standing before her again, not quite holding her, his expression quietly satisfied in the dim light. His hands are on her waist, stroking loosely up and down her sides in a way that’s oddly comforting.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, and Abby feels heat rise to her face because he says it like he really means it, like it’s some unexpected secret he’s just this moment discovered. The air in here feels hot and tense and it smells like sex, and she doesn’t know what to do except that she needs _more_ , so she pulls Kane down to her and kisses him hard, tasting herself on his lips. He responds with an urgency that suggests he’s not exactly as cool and composed as he’d like her to think, crushing her against his body and moaning into her kiss as he presses her back up against the wall. He makes no move to stop her this time when she reaches for his clothes, breaking their kiss to drag his shirt over his head and fling it aside, fumbling at the fastening of his jeans. When she slides her hand inside his hips jerk violently and he swears under his breath.

“Abby,” he says, and he sounds very strained, as though he’s struggling to speak at all. “You don’t have to if you don’t—”

“Shut up Kane,” she whispers, and squeezes him gently through his underwear, sliding her hand slowly up and down the iron-hard length of his erection. She likes the feeling of being back in control, likes having him literally in the palm of her hand. The guy who always acts like he’s above it all, trembling with repressed need as she slowly drags his clothes out of the way, drawing him out. He’s kissing her again as she hitches her leg high around his hip, urging him on, and she actually has to reach down and take his hand from her waist to caress her thigh so that he can steady her as she guides him where he needs to be. It’s as though he still can’t believe this is happening.

He starts to press inside her, and Abby lets out a little moan at the sensation. Perhaps misinterpreting it, Kane stills.

“It’s alright,” he says, his voice low and raspy, his head bowed against her shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Abby nips at his ear in response, and he lets out a startled yelp that makes her grin. “I’m not made of glass, Kane,” she says. “I can more than handle you.”

Kane draws back to look into her eyes. “I know you can,” he says softly. He hitches her leg higher and pushes all the way inside her, achingly deep, and it _does_ hurt a little, but in a good way. And the moan of pure, stunned pleasure that he lets out more than make up for it.

“ _Fuck_ Abby, you feel so good...”

It’s the most raw and honest he’s ever been with her, and the desperation in his voice is such an unbelievable turn-on she feels the muscles deep inside her squeeze and flutter around him in response. His hips jerk reflexively and his hands tighten their grip on her.

“Can you...can I...?”

“ _Yes_.” She’s too turned on to tease him for his hesitance any more. “God, _please_ , just—”

He slides out of her and thrusts back in, and her words dissolve into a blissful sigh. He’s bigger than she’s used to and it takes them a while to get a rhythm going but once they do it’s _good_ , better and better with every firm, rolling thrust as they start to move with one purpose, and discomfort of their position and the cold ache of the wall at her back and the muted music of the crowds in the next room all fade away as pleasure overwhelms every other sense.

Kane doesn’t speak much as his mouth is more than occupied by kissing her; mouth, neck, shoulder, hair, everywhere he can reach, he seems to enjoy it as much as anything else they’re doing. But Abby can feel the movement of his body quickly becoming more urgent, the muscles of his back tensing beneath her hands. She wishes for a wild moment that her dress were on the floor along with his shirt; she wants _more_ , skin on skin, and she runs her hands greedily over the firm, flexing muscles of his bare shoulders, clutching at him. Kane tears his mouth away from hers to speak, his voice hoarse:

“Can you come again?” he says, and he sounds almost pleading.

“Yes...” Abby breathes. “Oh yeah...”

She can feel the nascent sense of need again, igniting deep inside her, still distant but growing more vital with every passing second.

Kane kisses her again, hard. “Talk to me,” he says breathlessly. “Tell me...what you need...”

“ _Harder_.”

It’s the one thing Jake could never get right, never believes however much she tells him. Abby doesn’t _want_ to be loved tenderly all the time, to be treated as some precious, breakable thing. But Kane complies immediately, and god help her if it isn’t _unbelievably_ hot to give a man orders and have them be obeyed without question. She writhes and quivers and cards her fingers through his hair as he pounds into her, trying not to howl in sheer bliss every time his cock hits the place deep inside her that lights her up like a firework. _This_ isn’t what good girls are supposed to do either; people like her are supposed to have nice, sweet relationships with the boy next door that their parents approve of, with nice, gentle, respectful sex when their parents aren’t home. People like her aren’t supposed to _like_ being fucked senseless by the brooding loner in a dark closet at a party.

But she does. She likes it so much she can hardly stand it.

“Kane... _fuck_...”

“ _Marcus_ ,” he grinds out suddenly, and for a moment the sound is so unfamiliar she doesn’t recognise it for what it is. “My name...”

He’s panting, losing control, and she has no idea why this is suddenly so important to him right _now_ but hell, he did what _she_ wanted, after all.

“Marcus...” she whimpers, her voice thready and desperate. “I’m so close—”

He growls in a way that’s almost feral, and suddenly Abby feels her feet actually leave the ground as he lifts her up apparently effortlessly and pins her against the wall, his hips slamming into hers. Her legs grip his waist instinctively but she knows he won’t drop her and fuck it’s so _hot_ like this, her whole body jolting with the force of him driving into her again and again, and she can feel the trembling in his limbs, hear his ragged breath, and the second she realises that his gaze is fixed hungrily on the bouncing of her breasts as he _fucks_ her that’s it, she’s gone, and her second orgasm of the night explodes through her body with the force of an atom bomb.

Fuck. Oh _fuck._

Her cry of ecstasy is raw and throaty and more animal than sexy to her own ears, but it must do it for Kane because another couple of urgent thrusts and he’s coming too, his cock pulsing inside her as his hands grip her thighs hard enough to bruise.

For a long moment he looks like no-one she has ever known, slick with sweat, his hair falling over his eyes, gazing at her with an expression of stunned bliss. His bare chest is heaving with exertion, and Abby finds her eyes following a little bead of sweat rolling down his body, through the dusting of fine, dark hair. In this strange, preoccupied moment it strikes her as the single most erotic thing she has ever seen.

Then he carefully pulls out of her, setting her back to the ground where she stands with trembling legs, her dress falling back from where it has been bunched up around her hips. Abby’s aware again of the pounding music coming through the wall behind her as she bends down to pull her underwear back up her legs, and Kane finds his shirt from where she dropped it. It seems strange, somehow, that the party is still going on without them, that the rest of the world has kept going outside while they’ve been together.

“Jake Griffin is going to kill me,” Kane says.

He doesn’t sound particularly concerned with this, but Abby wishes he hadn’t said it anyway. It cuts through her dreamy post-orgasmic glow with unpleasant reality. For the first time she wonders what this was about for Kane. Would he have left with any girl – any _woman_ – who approached him tonight? Or did he get off on the idea of fucking another man’s girlfriend? Or perhaps just on the idea of fucking Abby Walters, who always did the right thing and should have known better.

“Jake doesn’t have to know,” she says, and hopes it sounds resolved rather than just cowardly. “It’s none of his business.”

Kane looks at her appraisingly, and Abby feels suddenly oddly exposed.

“What did he do to you anyway?” he asks.

Abby straightens her dress as best she can and runs her hands through her hair, trying to make herself fit to be seen. Her hands flirts with the handle of the door, not meeting Kane’s gaze, unsure what to say. She considers not answering at all, but she supposes she owes him the truth, if nothing else. So she throws the answer over her shoulder as she leaves.

“He asked me to marry him.”

The light outside is harsh on her eyes, but she doesn’t dare look back to see his face as Kane stands in the darkness and watches her go.

 


End file.
